I admit it--I have recently been known to sneak around my nearby Barnes & Noble and pick up "The Art of Dying Well," by Katy Butler. I only look at it when no one is watching me, as I fear my wife has concluded I have an obsession with the the idea of dying. What is so odd about coming to grips with the idea of death?
Have we spent our lives denying the fact of our own impending death so firmly that we know almost nothing about it? I mean, even as we have watched many around us dying suddenly and prematurely, we blithely cruise around ignoring it. It is a near obsession among news media to talk about tragic deaths due to accidents, catastrophes, suicides and murders, so it is all around us. But still, all this is happening to someone else, right?
Think about this--as I grew up and began hearing about the deaths of famous people, it was common to see deaths that occurred the mid 60's. In those days, we often thought that a life lived onto one's 60's was a full one. Given a little time, I know I can provide a lot of examples. Did they live a full life? I'm hoping I'll live a good while longer. So, one of my observations about "the art of dying well" is that I might want a life that lasts a bit longer. So. I think that getting to third base implies living for more like 70 or 80 years. Is that a requirement ? Who knows? I'm thinking dying well takes place after one has at least hit seventy.
